


J'ai aussi des démones

by Prouesse



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Crying, Demons, Emotions, Fluff, Formula 1, French, M/M, Self-Harm, charles is a cinnamon roll, good end tho, pierre also tho, they both are cute, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-23 05:35:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18147758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prouesse/pseuds/Prouesse
Summary: The one where both Pierre and Charles are quite messed up after their first race of 2019, both have a crush on each other, but they find each other in a very unexpected and vulnerable place.





	J'ai aussi des démones

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first every F1 fanfiction and first ever fanfiction to post on A03, so I'm really excited and curious about what you guys think about it! English isn't my native language, so there can be some slight mistakes.  
> Enjoy this story!
> 
> Set right after the Australian Grand Prix 2019
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING:  
> Self-harm
> 
> Please do not read if you are vulnerable to this topic, and otherwise at you own risk

Pierre was furious. Not with either his car, the team or the engineers, he was fed up with himself. His first race for the Austrian racing team of Aston Martin Red Bull Racing, the Australian Grand Prix, was one complete disaster. After the devastating mistake that was made with his qualification, causing him to start p17 on the grid, was one thing, but then messing up the race, and ending up at p11 just out of the points, was another. All eyes were on him within the Red Bull paddock this weekend since he was making his debute. He remembered the day when his current teammate, Max Verstappen, made his debute for Red Bull and immediately won his first ever Grand Prix in Spain. Frustrated by the idea of him not even coming close to being worthy for such a team, he entered his hotel room and smashed the door into its locket. With a loud thump he let himself fall on the soft bed, burying his face in the pillow. He just wanted it to be over. Not seeing any press, not talking to his engineers and Christian, and absolutely not facing Max. The best possible option for him was disappearing into the ground this instant. Pierre sat up right on his bed, wiping away his tears and smearing them on his polo when his eye fell on his arm. Carefully, he brushed his fingers along the skin of his arm, caressing the long, narrow scars, his breathing ragged with hiccups every now and then. Pierre has always been emotionally a little bit unstable. Nothing to be really worried about, but people quickly get under his skin and into his head, talking to him in order to undermine and suppressing him. When they do, when the demons that hunt him finally take the upper hand, Pierre finds himself in a moment of inferiority and turns to his own demons tho help him out, to block out the mental pain and replace it for psysical pain. He hadn't told anyone of his self-harm, and he hadn't been doing it for quite a while. The urge, however, was so big right now, that his legs took him to the bathroom. His hands, like they weren't his own, searched his toilet bag for this old razor blade which he got as a present from his dad. With the razor blade in his right hand pressing it to his left arm, he felt the tears streaming down his face. When the cold metal slashed the flesh of his arm and the blood streamed out of the gashes, he let out a scream, tears beginning to fall on his arm and blending in with the blood. 

"Pierre?" The light voice of the Monégasque was just at the other side of his hotel room door. Pierre's head shot up and his body paralyzed in fear when he realized that the voice belonged to Charles Leclerc, the Ferrari driver on whom he had an enormous crush. Charles also had a crush on him, according to the rest of the drivers. "Pierre?" The voice sounded more worried this time, and Charles started knocking on the door. "Yes, I'm coming!" Pierre opened the tap, letting water clean the cuts. He grabbed some paper towels, pressed them onto his wounds and rushed to get a sweater with long sleeves. Just before he opened the door, he wiped away the last tears from his eyes and grabbed the door handle. "Mon amour, have you been crying?" Charles exclaimed as soon as he saw the Frenchman, and he gently pushed him inside the hotel room. "It's nothing Charles, honestly. Just a little bummed by today's result." He flopped down onto the bed, and as soon as he was lying, the Monégasque flopped down next to him. "Tell me about it." He huffed. "Why are you wearing a sweater by the way?" Charles turned around on his side and propped himself up on his elbow to properly look at Pierre. "I-I was cold." the Frenchman stammered, his cheeks flushing red. "In Australia." Charles looked him directly in the eye, raising one of his eyebrows questioning the honesty of Pierre. "You can tell me anything, you know that right?" Charles softly grabbed Pierre's arm, who quickly yanked it away, wincing in pain when doing so. Charles however got hold of his hand, and carefully pulled the older man towards him. "Please don't tell me...." He carefully pulled away the hem of the sleeve, revealing blood-stained paper towels. "Mon Dieu." Charles gasped. Pierre had much difficulty suppressing his tears and sobs. "Je suis désolé...." Pierre gasped in between his sobs towards the Monégasque man. Charles bit his lower lip, and looked up at the Frenchman, giving him a reasuring smile. "All will be fine Pierre. I'm just really glad I found out, because...." Charles turned his arm around, revealing small, old-looking scars. "J'ai aussi des démones." Pierre smiled at the younger boy through his tears, and fell around his neck, still slightly sobbing. "After Jules.... I just couldn't take it anymore. I cried for days, weeks and the demons wouldn't stop bothering me. I was blind and the only option which I could see was this one." Charles smiled faintly, before sighing slightly, laying a hand on the small of Pierre's back. "We can work this out together, mon amour." The two interrupted the embrace and looked at each other, both pairs of eyes glossy and red. "Come on, let's get you patched up." Charles carefully took Pierre by his hand and helped him up. "But please promise me one thing: Tell me. I'm not asking you to stop, because I know how hard it is to fight the demons. But at least tell me. We can fight this together." Charles placed his hand on top of the shoulders of the slightly smaller gentleman. Pierre just nodded, grateful for having this vulnerable and intimate moment with the Monégasque. "I will, and I promise." Pierre said, his voice a little hoarse from crying. "Merci beaucoup." And the two men left the room.

**Author's Note:**

> So thank you all for reading this and giving it a chance! If you like it, please leave either a kudo or a comment, this really motivates me to keep on writing! Love to all of you! <3


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